From lack of knowing what ornithologists call the birds that nested in our neighbour’s eaves, splashed in our birdbath, crapped on our deck and sang in our elm and maple trees, we dubbed them Jerry Lewis birds. Linda and I named them that because of their large fanciful repertoire of odd whistles, tweets, coos, hoots, squeaks and throaty gurgles. At times, it sounded like they were chuckling to themselves. Sometimes I’d whistle two or three notes a few times and the Jerry Lewis birds would try to imitate them, or so it seemed. They definitely meowed like the neighbourhood cats and imitated the squeaky hinge on our neighbour’s backdoor. We expected the next thing they’d say is “Hey Lay Dee!”

They have a distinctive appearance. Their feathers are black and iridescent purples, greens and blues with hints of paler shades depending on the light. The plumage is sometimes speckled with white spots around the head, neck and belly. The bill changes from yellow to dark brown in the fall. Compared to the little sparrows that shared the nesting area, Jerry Lewis birds are aggressive.

By sheer luck, I found out what these critters are called. I had come across a book called Manitoba Birds and opened it, coincidentally to the picture of our noisy backyard bird. It was the European starling, not a bird native to North America but an introduced specie. The story of how European starlings came here makes them even more worthy of the name Jerry Lewis birds.

They were brought here under the silliest pretext, one borne out of human ignorance and hubris. Late in the 1800s, there was a group in New York City called the Acclimatization Society whose aim was to introduce into North America all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s writings, a frivolous plan at best, a disaster for indigenous species at worst.

About 60 European starlings were released in Central Park in 1890 and 1891. Since then the offspring of those 60 birds have spread to every corner of the continent. So successful have they been at adapting to their new environs that in the northeastern United States, they often flock in such large numbers they become a nuisance.

One of the disasters of European starlings is they are cavity-nesting birds and will aggressively take nesting sites away from native birds. European starlings will nest near people in cities, towns and farms or in forests and clearings. They can produce two or three batches of young every year, ensuring their numbers remain high and continue to disadvantage other birds.

So the exotic bird we thought was a fun-loving entertainer that mimics other birds, cats and environmental sounds – I’m sure I’ve heard them imitate the two-note stoplight beeps that help disabled people cross the street – is an invader, a usurper stealing food and nests from native birds.

Criddle/Vane House Guided Tour 3:55

Click pic to take my 3:55 tour of the 14-room house which was destroyed by arson in 2014.

Stone Alone out on Highway 21 2:16

To explore this house inside and out click pic

Portals to the Past 4:18

Beside the road, the haunted souls of the long gone find solace and sanctuary in tumbledowns, neglected and abandoned places that once danced with the rhythms of lives but now succumb and succumb. Click pic for 4:17 video

Murder House in the Rain, Ethelbert, MB 4:49

Click pic to view double homicide scene and derelict churches 4:49

Ruined Finery – R. F. Lyons Mansion, Carberry, MB 2:55

Click pic to explore this old pile inside and out 2:55

Preserved Finery – Gingerbread House, Carberry, MB 4:46

Click the pic to explore the house inside and out.

Frig Magnet Philosophy

"When bodymind drops, when I am nowhere to be found, there is such an infinite Emptiness, a radical Fullness, endlessly laced with luminosity. I-I open as the Kosmos, here where no object corrupts primordial Purity, here where concepts are too embarrassed to speak, here where duality hides its face in shame, and suffering cannot even remember its name. Nothing ever happens here, in the fullness of infinity, singing self-existing bliss, alive with self-liberating gestures, always happy to be home. Infinite gratitude meets utter simplicity in the openness of this moment, for there is just this, forever and forever and hopelessly forever." - Ken Wilber

Mission Statement

As a professional writer, I shall honour the strategy that informs my client’s audience in a voice they trust and a style they understand.
As a personal writer, I shall honour the strategies defined by the resourcefulness of my mind, the waves of my heart and the wiles of my spirit.

Just This by Ken Wilber

In the heart of Emptiness there is a mysterious impulse, mysterious because there is actually nothing in the heart of Emptiness (for there is nothing in Emptiness, period). Yet there it is, this mysterious impulse, the impulse to…create. To sing, to shine, to radiate; to send forth, reach out and celebrate; to sing and shout and walk about; to effervesce and bubble over, this mysterious exuberance in the heart of Emptiness.

Emptiness empties itself of emptiness, and thus becomes Full, pregnant with all worlds, a fruition of the infinite impulse to play, hidden in the heart of your own deepest Self. If you rest in the Witness, settle back as I-I, and look very carefully for the Looker – if you turn within right now and try to see the Seer – you won’t see anything at all, for you cannot see the Seer. All you will find is a vast Freedom and Emptiness, in which the entire Kosmos is now arising. Out of the pure Emptiness that is your deepest suchness, all worlds arise. Your own impulse of looking has brought forth the universe, and here it resides in the vastness of all space which is to say, in the purity of your own primordial awareness. This has been obvious all along; this you have known all along. Just this, and nothing more, just this.

from "One Taste"

My Mission Statement

As a professional writer, I shall honour the strategy that informs my client’s audience in a voice they trust and a style they understand.
As a personal writer, I shall honour the strategies defined by the resourcefulness of my mind, the waves of my heart and the wiles of my spirit.